


The Spy's Photograph Album

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cold War, F/M, It's all Belle's POV, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017, The AU from U.N.C.L.E., This has zero to do with Merida or the Dunbrochs other than me using their castle grounds FYI, hints of Outlaw Queen, spy!Rumbelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: Belle French's job at U.N.C.L.E. had taken a deadly turn when her roommate was killed over a case of mistaken identity. She and Raymund S. Gold, a disgraced former MI6 agent holding a position in U.N.C.L.E. on the good grace of Mr. Waverly, had come together to solve the mystery. Things just got a little complicated...





	The Spy's Photograph Album

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ssirius_Blackk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ssirius_Blackk/gifts).



> My prompt this year was "The Man from U.N.C.L.E. AU", and I had no time for betas between power outages, panicked rewrites, and a busy schedule, so all mistakes are my own and will be edited at a later date if I catch them. 'XD
> 
> U.N.C.L.E. MATERIAL IS TAKEN FROM THE TV SERIES AND THE 2015 MOVIE! FIC TAKES PLACE IN 1964! ENJOY!

**Um...so, h-how should I-Just start anywhere? Okay. Okay. Um...**

**My name is Belle French. Isabelle, I suppose I should say, um...I have been with U.N.C.L.E. for four of the eleven months they've been here in New York, I was given a reference by my real-life uncle, Alan Prentiss, and I work down in Section IV. Intelligence and Communications, more in the Intelligence vein, very close to the archives. I had always wanted to help people, so I thought a position in a global peacekeeping organization like this might be a perfect fit for me.**

**The first time I had been attacked, it had been walking home. It's about three blocks from HQ, I got lucky with the apartment I share-I mean, sh-shared, with another girl. A block away, that evening, a car pulled over. The passenger was asking for directions, and I went over to help. It was very stupid, I know, but I did it and almost got dragged into the car before my screaming attracted a half dozen workers coming up from one of those street elevators, you know? They drove off my attackers, and I was ready to chalk it up to one bad mistake on my part, but then last week, I was eating breakfast at a diner. When I tried to leave the ladies room, two other men tried to grab me. I carry a handgun in my purse, it's small but it drove them off. Twice in one week seemed a bit of a pattern, and I tried asking the others in my office about it but...well...I'm new, and-And they just thought I was overreacting. Or being paranoid.**

**I didn't report the incident seriously, because, y'know, I only got this job because of Uncle Alan, and I didn't want to make a scene. So...I said nothing. At least not until, um, Mr. Gold offered to walk me home when I stayed too long and it got dark and stormy. Mr. Gold offered to give me a ride home, and I agreed because I didn't have so much as a raincoat with me. By the time we got to my apartment building the rain was coming down in sheets, we could hardly see the end of the car bonnet, let alone the road, so I asked if he'd like to come inside and wait out the storm. He agreed and we went inside...**

* * *

_Belle was certain her neighbors would set their tongues to wagging over her inviting a man into her apartment, but they could just wag all they liked, there was nothing untoward going on. Her hair was dripping wet and her blouse was soaked in the short distance between Gold's car and the door, and he hadn't faired that much better in his suit, his short silvery hair plastered to the shape of his skull. (He'd stepped right in a puddle too, his left shoe squelched with each step.) She didn't have a change of clothes to offer a man, but maybe if she just sat him in front of the radiator with a hot cup of tea and offered a towel, they'd both thaw out quickly enough._

_If there was anything worse than rain, it was cold rain._

_Besides, she owed Gold a little kindness. He'd saved her from Agent Aston's "chivalry" in giving her a ride home himself. Belle didn't like that Aston was always coming by her desk at work, she didn't want the great lummox knowning where she lived as well. Then she'd never be rid of him. He seemed to find her complete, genuine disinterest in him as a suitor to be a challenge, or perhaps even an encouragement, while Belle found his persistence...irritating._

_For all his unpopularity as a person and how she'd heard he'd been in a shouting match with an agent that very afternoon over an assignment, Mr. R. S. Gold at least knew how to treat a lady. The "R" stood for Raymund, but she didn't know what the "S" stood for yet. He was teasing her with it now, she was sure he enjoyed her curiosity as much as she enjoyed his many little mysteries._

_Belle was surprised to find her apartment door unlocked. But then Dawn could be forgetful when she was tired from a long shift, and she was supposed to be home by now. So they went in. There was no sign Dawn was home yet, but-_

_"Oh my god." Belle took in the scene of chaos around her. Books had been pulled off her shelves, the kitchen cabinets were gaping open, couch cushions flung across the room. "What happened?"_

_Gold walked in behind her, raising his eyebrows at the chaos. Belle hurried to check the bedrooms, drawing out her little handgun while Gold reached into his jacket for his firearm. Her room was left most intact, but Dawn's door was hanging off the hinges and a total wreck. Her purse was laying on the bed, and the white shoes she wore with her nurse's uniform were kicked off at the foot of the bed. It looked like she'd just come home...but she_ wasn't _._

_"You need to call the police," Gold said from behind her. "This looks...troubling."_

* * *

**So I called them. And they came over. All that did was give me a great big headache with all their questions.**

**They asked where she should have been, where Dawn worked, if she could have gone off and I was just mistaken, if she had any enemies, if anything was taken. That was the only useful question, because _nothing_ was taken. Some things were broken, some were toppled over and the like, but the silverware was in the drawer, the jar we kept spare change in was sitting right there on the kitchen counter. Even the money in her purse was still there.**

**They asked Mr. Gold what he knew. Which was even less than I did, since he'd never met Dawn before, and he told them that. Then a policeman asked me if I could describe Dawn, and I just dug out a picture she kept of her and her family after she graduated nursing school. It was a color photograph, and I was handing it over Mr. Gold saw it. After the police left, he asked me if Dawn and I had ever been mistaken for sisters. We both have pale skin, blue eyes, brown hair. I never thought we looked related. Where my face is sort of round and soft, her's is more refined, and I have red in my hair where her hair was a sort of golden brown. We never saw the resemblance, but other people did.**

**I hadn't told the police about my two attacks, I'd forgotten about it in the calamity. But once Mr. Gold asked that, I couldn't help but wonder the same thing: Had someone mistaken Dawn for me? And why were they after me so badly?**

**I...I got a phone call the next morning at work, from the police. They said they'd found Dawn, and she was...she...it was too late. Sh-she was gone.**

* * *

_Dawn was dead._

_Dawn, the twenty-seven-year-old nurse that had her whole life ahead of her, that had two parents in Michigan waiting on weekly calls from their little girl, who Belle had barely known at all, was dead. She wanted to cry, but couldn't, she felt hot and cold and sweaty and could not understand how this happened._ Why _this happened. Gold seemed to think they looked similar, but that didn't-Was it her fault? In some sick, accidental way, was it Belle's fault Dawn was gone?_

_Gold sent for her, and she walked into his office. It was a small room with drab olive walls and lighting just softer than a bare bulb, just his desk and chair, two chairs for visitors, a filing cabinet and table with extra paperwork and his electric kettle furnishing the space. It always smelled a bit like cigarettes because Gold smoked in his office, and sometimes like the tea he made in here so he wouldn't have to leave the office. Usually she teased him about needing pictures or a couch, but today she just felt like her brain was wrapped in cotton._

_Then he stood up and stood before her, with sympathy in his brown eyes. He'd touched her arm and said something like it wasn't her fault, and Belle choked on a sob._

_"Isn't it? Whoever did this was looking for me. For me! I-Th-there was an attack yesterday morning at a diner around the corner, and last week while I was walking home-I should have reported it, I should have told someone but-"_

_"Miss French, Miss French." Gold cupped her elbows gently in his hands, steering her towards his chair, the only comfortable one in the office. "It isn't your fault. If you'd told someone, and_ maybe _you should have, the best you could have hoped for was someone would know this was happening. This isn't your fault, there's nothing you could have done against the Queen of Hearts."_

_Belle still cried. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but it still wasn't fair. Gold gave her his handkerchief and let her sob herself out, kneeling in front of her until she was finished. By the time she could breathe again, Belle didn't feel any clearer, but she did recognize a name. "Th-the Queen of Hearts? What-what does she have to do with Dawn?"_

_Dawn was a nurse. She worked as the nurse for a general practitioner, she wore the cap and the white dress and the shoes and everything. She was thinking about going into the service to help out overseas lately, but that was the extent of her international plans as far as Belle knew. Her father was a banker, her mother was a homemaker that had been a teller at his bank once. Unless the Queen of Hearts, an internationally wanted criminal with an empire built over the course of two and a half decades, had an account with the bank Dawn's father worked at...there was no connection to make there._

_Gold shook his head. "No, no, not with her. With you."_

_"With...me? But...but I'm a glorified record keeper, what does she want with me?" True, Belle was guilty of reading things when she should have been filing them back in the archives, but she didn't have any classified secrets in her head. Just the usual ones._

_"It's not what you know, exactly, either. Your mother was in the war, wasn't she? In intelligence operations? Code-breaking, surveillance photographs, things like that?"_

_"Y-yes..." Mum was an American deployed overseas, Papa had been stationed in England. That's how they met. "So...so she wants something Mum had? Knew?"_

_Gold's face was grim. "I'm afraid so."_

_"I...I'm going to have to report this to Mr. Waverly now, I think..."_

* * *

**Thank you for the tea. Um...where was I? Oh.**

**Mr. Waverly was...well shocked is the wrong word, I'd say stunned. He was stunned that so much had happened in a week without his knowning, and I felt very sheepish for not speaking up sooner, but then he said he had no idea that the Queen of Hearts would be so bold as to try and snatch an U.N.C.L.E. agent so close to their headquarters. No not bold. Foolish. It was so foolish it cast doubt on whether it was the Queen of Hearts at all, but with a mole in the U.K. thwarting attempts to capture her, Mr. Waverly said they couldn't take anymore chances.**

**Not long after I'd started this job, U.N.C.L.E. had locked in on the Queen of Hearts making several suspicious moves. Purchases, inquiries, trades, deals. They realized she was on to something big and started cracking down on her. Then we found out about the mole, and plans were made to identify suspects. If I have them right, the plan was to give each suspect false information, and see what leaked out, eliminating sources in a progressing order until there was no doubt left. They didn't know how long the spy had been there, long enough that it was a problem identifying what was real clues from faked ones on our own side anymore.**

**Mr. Gold's position is Informational Assessor and Assignment Appraiser, and as you probably know it was a position customized for him by Mr. Waverly. They were in MI6 at the same time, after Mr. Waverly was appointed head of U.N.C.L.E. he tracked down Mr. Gold and asked for his expertise in strategizing. He checks the facts being sent out in the dossiers given on any given mission, and he checks that the agents assigned the mission are prepared. Um, there was some discontent about his having any opinion on the latter, because of the nature of his discharge, but he's never been wrong. Agents Cassidy and Swan were tasked with keeping an eye on Arthur Kingsleigh, one of the suspects, and while Agent Swan raised sand about having to "play waitress" she _did_ notice there were several people watching Kingsleigh. Mr. Gold is very good at what he does.**

**Mr. Waverly had appointed Mr. Gold to dig up whatever in my mother's past might have drawn the Queen of Hearts' eye after all these years. The results were quick to come back, and I remember this from just before I turned twelve: Mum had given up her career in intelligence when the war ended, in 1952 Uncle Alan asked her to come with him on a job because he needed her eye for detail. I just thought that Mum was helping him with a freelance photography job, for years that's what Papa and I thought he'd done after the war. In reality, they checked out some places in Canada that they thought Dr. Heller might've built his doomsday rocket on, and then moved to the mountains in France, and somewhere in the English countryside. They could find nothing and Mum went alone on a short tour just to take some extra pictures and do a bit of sight-seeing. When she left, I'd asked her to do that so I could see where she'd been.**

**It wasn't long after she got home from that, maybe three weeks, when she had a car accident. There's never been proof it was deliberate, but there's never been conclusive proof it was accidental either. No one claimed responsibility for it, so...I'm left to wonder what really happened.**

* * *

_The file Belle had personally brought up from the archives on Isaac Heller was surprisingly uncomplicated for such a mystery. He was a brilliant scientist, no one denied that. But he was arrogant and proud, self-centered and obsessed with getting the credit he thought he deserved. (Not unlike some of the men Belle had gone up against in uni, actually, professors included.) And dangerous. During the war, he'd proposed a rocket launched from one of the Allies territories straight at Berlin, levelling the city to the ground along with Hitler's most ardent followers, destroying the heart of the Axis powers in one blow._

_It would have been a fine idea if it weren't the sort of thing a mad scientist would consider._

_Granted the atomic bomb wasn't the most graceful way to end a war. Some argued it was necessary to put a definitive end rather than leaving loose ends like they'd left in the Great War, others contended the war was over and dropping bombs on Japan was a pointless loss of human life. Either way, nuclear warfare was a concern now. And if Heller had gotten his way, they'd already be launching deadly rockets with the push of a button across the seas. Heller's persistence that his way was best had gotten him disowned by almost every scientist to every have a working relationship with him, (if, the file hinted, his own abrasive personality hadn't already done that,) and prompted the weasel to woo investors in Europe to prove it could be done._

_Only when he provided nothing but a handmade set of blueprints displayed only once, one investor had decided to get a different kind of payment and killed him in the French Alps. That was supposed to be the end of it, but rumors lingered on. Rumors the Queen of Hearts seemed to think were true, and Belle might have proof of in her album._

_Mr. Waverly ordered this to be kept as secret as possible. Belle was moved to quarters within U.N.C.L.E.'s HQ, (they had a row of apartment-like quarters for visitors too important to stay in an insecure hotel,) as her apartment was considered to be a compromised area. She brought her photograph album, some of her favorite books, most of her clothes and shoes, things of that nature. She was in early most days anyway, so she didn't think anyone would notice she was living at the office. The only other person in on the secret was Mr. Gold, and Agents Cassidy and Swan, who were in the U.K. with Kingsleigh and were currently trying to track down a missing suspect that had never shown up for his meeting, one Robin Locksley who was unaccounted for, along with his four-year-old son._

_Strange..._

_Mr. Gold had gone over each picture with her, scouring it for abnormalities. Mum had broadly categorized the pictures in here by country, but she hadn't written where they were taken. Belle had to rely on her memories of cities or counties Mum had mentioned. Heller had spent a great deal of time in a house in Vancouver, but that was ruled out immediately. It was too populous, there was no space for a secret rocket silo, even underground. France was a bit more complicated. The rocky shapes of the mountains Mum and Uncle Alan seemed to visit, as Heller had spent his last three months of life in a hotel there, would play tricks on your eyes, but again, they could find nothing definitive._

_They struck out again in England, and by then two days had passed since Dawn's murder, Cassidy and Swan were due back the next day, and there were no new developments in either the Queen of Hearts, why she wanted Belle, or who the mole was._

_Belle hated puzzles without endings._

_She had chosen to sit on Gold's desk for the duration of her time here. He must have picked those chairs with discomfort in mind, and she'd groused exactly that to him while sipping from a cup of tea he'd offered._

_"What makes you think that isn't exactly the point?" He grinned, tapping his finger against the oddly chipped rim of his own cup. When he smiled, he lost nearly ten years of age on his face, the crinkles around his golden brown eyes soft and playful. "Who wants to stay in an office with such uncomfortable chairs?"_

_Belle snorted. "So you purposely found the least inviting chairs in all of New York, specifically to keep visitors from overstaying their welcome? Why Mr. Gold, that's nothing short of fiendish."_

_"It is, isn't it? I'm rather proud of myself for thinking of it."_

_"What if you have visitors that aren't so terrible, though? What if it's someone you used to work with in MI6 dropping by?"_

_Gold's smile dropped. "If they drop by, I wouldn't even offer them the use of my most uncomfortable chair. I don't get visitors, Miss French, I get annoyances."_

_"Oh...well...am I less annoying to be given tea?" Belle asked._

_At that, Gold tilted his head, looking at her with...with a very odd sort of look on his face. It was soft, but he wasn't smiling. Thoughtful. It was thoughtful. He settled back in his chair, glancing down momentarily into his tea like it held all the answers._

_"You're not an annoyance...you're...intriguing," he said, nodding to himself. "Yes. A pretty young lady who spends more time reading paperwork than filling it out is the least annoying person I've met since I came into this particular position. You ask too many questions, but not stupid ones."_

_Belle felt herself smiling. "You're...intriguing, as well, Mr. Gold."_

_She could have sworn his face changed colors at that, but the he swiveled around in his chair and stood up, facing away from her. He plucked a file off the table behind his desk, and handed it to her._

_"What do you think of this?" he asked, clearly changing the subject._

_Belle opened the file. A man of thirty-five's picture stared back, blue eyes, dark blonde hair, a beard. Robin Locksley. She skimmed his record, eyebrows rising at the sterling reputation laid out in words before her. Absolutely nothing in his recorded history hinted that Locksley was capable of being a double agent. He was fiercely loyal and had a self-described code of honor he lived his life by. Very gallant, very noble, very much a model human being._

_Why was he suspected of being a traitor?_

_"Locksley has a source that's very..._ informed _," Gold replied, and Belle realized she'd spoken aloud. "It's always been right, but, sometimes being right too many times is enough to make you a suspicious character these days. It was insinuated by another agent, Killian Jones, that he had been getting these tips from not an informant, but directly from the Queen of Hearts. Several 'anonymous' sources agreed and Locksley's refusal to reveal the informant's name put him in the hot seat."_

_"That...that doesn't seem to be enough to go on for a conviction of...of betrayal? Treason?"_

_"No, no it doesn't." Gold agreed, fiddling with an unlit cigarette. He didn't smoke while Belle was in here, but he did reach for them often enough that she wondered if he were either trying to quit, or trying to be polite. "It's also not the first time Jones has tried to blow the whistle on somebody and had anonymous supporters behind him. Only this time he's underfire himself."_

_"How so?"_

_"Well, this isn't the first time, like I said. Last time he was disproven with little consequence, but this marks a pattern. Also, his behavior in between incidents wasn't exactly inspiring of the idea of him being innocent. He's suspected of being the mole himself, and if Locksley hadn't disappeared he'd probably have been accused of trying to throw investigators off the scent by framing another agent."_

_"But Locksley just vanished. Isn't it possible he could have been kidnapped and framed?"_

_"It's possible. Cassidy and Swan are looking into it, they'd find the truth. They're good agents, they get the job done._ Cleanly _..." Gold dropped his cigarette back into his desk drawer with a scowl, drawing the album towards him to study a photograph of a field. There was a story there, somewhere, but Belle wasn't sure what. She wanted to though. It hadn't been a coy reply, she really did find Raymund S. Gold intriguing._

_Very intriguing._

* * *

**It was three days after Dawn's murder that we found a lead. Uncle Alan had only been checking out the English countryside, but Mum had taken a train up north, through Scotland, before she headed home. She said it was very beautiful and green and misty, like something out of a fairytale. She'd taken a picture of a fairy's ring of mushrooms on the grounds of a real castle, she'd told me. There was another picture from the castle that had confused me as a child though. It was a large circle of stones, and I asked her if fairies had left them there as well.**

**Mum said that wasn't one of her pictures, she'd have to send it to Uncle Alan. She never got the chance to, but I remembered that when Mr. Gold asked me what it was. I told him what I knew, it was a circle of rocks Mum wanted to show Uncle Alan. Looking at it as an adult, I can't say it was much different. They weren't very tall rocks, maybe knee high, and in a perfect circle. If fairies didn't leave them, than someone else must have, because it couldn't have been a natural formation. When I was younger I used to think it was some kind of ritualistic ring, but at that moment I knew it had something to do with Isaac Heller and my mum had been on to something.**

**The only problem was that Mr. Waverly wouldn't send us out into the field. I didn't have but a beginner's level of training, and Mr. Gold had been retired for eight years. It was too dangerous, he said, and if they let the Queen of Hearts know they had a possibly location she'd be there well before us.**

**Cassidy and Swan, he said, had been receiving messages in England from a mysterious "R" that told them to stop wasting time looking for Locksley and focus on Jones and Kingsleigh. The British branch of U.N.C.L.E. had considered the mole investigation closed despite warnings and had approved Jones' requested leave-time to go visit his brother, while Kingsleigh was sent back to work in Section III over there.**

**They had thought it was Locksley, "R" standing for Robin, but the handwriting didn't match, it was too feminine. Mr. Gold and I argued that if someone was warning us to watch those two when they were back to work, and it was highly suspicious that Jones was going off the radar with an alibi at this time. But Mr. Waverly was insistent that his best agents were already on their way. I'll admit that one of my most defining traits is stubbornness, and when Mr. Gold said he was capable of flying an airplane and knew someone who owed him a favor, I readily agreed.**

**It was...reckless, I'll admit. Very reckless on my part especially. I have very little training in the field, I felt guilt for Dawn's death in my place and wanted closure for my mother, but I wasn't coerced and quite frankly if Mr. Gold hadn't mentioned a private plane I probably would have booked a flight to Scotland myself.**

**When we got there, we rented a car to take us to Dunbroch. It was a quiet little town, we booked rooms at the inn and asked around a bit to make sure we were in the right place. Dunbroch Castle had burned a hundred years ago, and while a few rooms were still usable, no one had felt inclined to restore it, or knock it over either. We'd learned that someone by the name of Charles Darle had purchased the castle at about the same time Isaac Heller had been seen in England. Charles Darle is an anagram for Dr. Isaac Heller, and our research assured us Heller had been arrogant enough of his own cleverness to do such a thing. We settled into our rooms after dinner, intending to check out the sight in the morning.**

**If anything was there, we would contact Mr. Waverly or Cassidy and Swan. Otherwise-Actually, I don't think we had a plan in case nothing was there. Hmm.**

* * *

_Belle couldn't sleep a wink._

_Honestly, she wasn't sure when her last good night's sleep was...certainly not since before her apartment had been broken into. By now she could only assume they'd stopped rooting for her album because they were afraid of getting caught, or because they thought she-Dawn,-would know what they wanted. They'd been mistaken. If the Queen of Hearts was half as ruthless as Belle had heard, she didn't doubt the men that killed Dawn were probably dead as well by now. It was a small comfort. She had no idea about the people who could have killed her mother, if anyone did kill her mother, or if this was anything less than a wild goose chase._

_Something was...something was different about Gold. About the time he'd gotten this report with Jones' name in it, he'd acted differently. More driven. He'd been the one to suggest they borrow a plane and fly over to Scotland themselves when Mr. Waverly shot them down. His reasoning was sound enough, but...it wasn't enough. Not for Belle, and even less for Gold._

_She'd heard the rumors, of course._

_Raymund S. Gold, MI6 operative, highly respected and widely considered to be one of the brightest spies in Her Majesty's service. He had a seventeen year career cut short with an adrupt discharge hot on the heels of allegations following his assignment to unmasking the Queen of Hearts. It was the last time anyone had closed in on the Queen of Hearts before now, eight years later, and while Belle, and others as well, believed it had been someone looking to throw him off track that placed those accusations on him...the hush-hush nature of the trial and how it had been covered up had led some people to believe it had elements of truth to it._

Wait _._

_Belle sat up in bed, grabbing for her dressing gown. It was eleven o'clock at night, she was tired, they had a long day ahead of her, but her mind was wide awake. She needed answers, and only the man next door had them at this point. Her question needled her as she padded out her room and over to the next door, knocking softly on the door. And again, a bit firmer._

_The door creaked open, just a fraction, before Gold opened the door all the way for her._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"What? No, nothing's wrong, I just-" Belle bit her lip. "I need to know something, can I come in?"_

_Gold stepped away from the door, picking up a smoldering cigarette balanced on an ashtray and carrying it to the window. He stood there with the window open over a back alley, taking a drag while Belle let herself in and stood awkwarding in the middle of his room. He wasn't even wearing nightclothes, he had on the deep blue shirt and black slacks he'd been wearing all day. It was the least amount of layers she'd ever seen him in, sleeve garters included._

_"What do you want to know?" He turned towards her, exhaling a cloud of smoke._

_"Um...I...I want to know if Killian Jones was the one to launch the false accusations against you before your discharge."_

_Oh, it was so horribly direct she didn't blame him for freezing up like a statue, the only motion a lazy curl of smoke wafting up from the glowing tip of his cigarette. This was why she worked behind a desk. When she wanted to know something, she asked for the answer. Directly. That wasn't always the best tact._

_"Ah...how did you guess?"_

_Belle wasn't sure what to make of his tone, but took a few steps forwards anyway. "You said...um...you said this wasn't the first time Jones made allegations against another agent. Your discharge came eight years ago, he's been at MI6 nine years before U.N.C.L.E., the timing is right. I know he's perpetually in debt and not above accepting bribes, much like Kingsleigh. And he does a fair enough job his superiors haven't thought to fire him even though his personal record the year before your discharge paints him as lazy and irresponsible. The change almost exactly matches when you started investigating the Queen of Hearts. You're doing this for revenge, or something like it, aren't you?"_

_"Aren't you?" Gold countered, snubbing his cigarette out on the windowsill and flicking it out the window, keeing his back to her, now. "Your mother is gone because of this damned rocket. Why do you want to find it so badly?"_

_"Because I want to know that my mother didn't die for nothing. Even if it_ was _a genuine car accident, I can't stand the thought that she died with unfinished business."_

_"He laughed, you know."_

_Sudden changes of subject were familiar in conversation with Gold, but they were still a bit hard to keep up with when he didn't give her context. "Who did?"_

_"Jones." Gold hissed, as if the name were the foulest word. "When I came to clean out my desk after my honorable discharge, he met me in the hallway and laughed. 'So the clever Mr. Gold has been outplayed. How does it feel?' My reputation was in tatters, I had no standing left. He just stood there and laughed because he knew he'd won. When Waverly offered me a post at U.N.C.L.E., I didn't care about the ridiculous name or the chance to get back in the game, or money, or any of that. I saw it as a chance to...to finish_ my _business."_

_"To prove your innocence..." Belle pursed her lips. "Or for revenge?"_

_Gold sighed, shutting the window. It was quiet and still for a moment. Then he turned around shaking his head._

_"I don't know. I honestly don't know. I thought..." he sighed, gesturing helplessly. "I'd cross that bridge when I come to it."_

_Belle took another step forward. She'd gotten very close without realizing it, close enough to touch his hand if she wanted to. And she did, but she refrained. "I don't...I don't know what I would do if I came face to face with the driver that hit my mother. But I don't think it would stop there if I started. Revenge is...revenge is a cycle. It won't get better if you're trapped in it."_

_Gold snorted, but not...unkindly. His eyes softened. "You're a remarkable woman, Miss French. Very remarkable. How do you do it?"_

_"Do what?"_

_"Stay so...so positive. You're...you're like light."_

_Belle looked down at her bare toes. They were chilled, she should have packed slippers. "I'm not all light. I feel...sick, because someone died over a mistake, and I feel guilty, and all I can do for Dawn is keep whoever ordered her dead from hurting anyone else. And it's...it's not enough for a human life. How have you done this for seventeen years?"_

_He shrugged, a sheepish smile curling up his mouth. "It's what I know. That, the...the darkness, it doesn't go away, not really. But sometimes it lessens. Softens."_

_"How?"_

_"Good memories. Doing something you're good at, something constructive. Something simple as a warm day. Something as unique as a scent. Sometimes...sometimes..."_

_"Sometimes what?"_

_Gold hesitated a moment. His hands flexed at his sides, and she slowly reached out until their fingers curled together, entwined. His fingers were roughened and warm, long, and she felt the dark places creep back. If he thought she was light, then he was her guide in the dark. Both a little different, both a little the same. Maybe that was why they'd always gotten along so well in his dreary little office. Kindred spirits._

_Belle smiled, reaching for his other hand. He met her halfway, and she shyly let her head lean forwards, resting on his shoulder. Gold turned and pressed his nose against her hair. He smelled like smoke and cologne, something male and spicy she wasn't familiar with. He made a pleased little noise, and she wondered if she smelled as appealing as he did. What a strange thought._

_"It's late," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You should get some rest."_

_"We should have pretended to be married," Belle grumbled without thinking. "I don't want to sleep alone."_

_"I'm old enough to be your father." Gold chuckled. "You are far too young and lovely to be my wife."_

_"You aren't that old...and I think you're rather handsome."_

_She heard a soft sigh, and found Gold stepping back. Belle should have expected rejection, really, but he still looked at her with those lovely eyes of his, softer than she had ever seen them, and he lifted her hands to his lips._

_"When we get back to New York, would you care to have dinner with me?"_

_Belle beamed. "I would."_

* * *

**We arrived at Dunbroch castle early in the morning. The picture of the rock circle didn't really give you an idea of the scale, and when we saw how large it was, it seemed we were on the right track. The ground sounded different. It was...it was firmer, there was a layer of grass and dirt grown over it, yes, but it was how the grass feels when it's growing over the sidewalk. There was an overgrown garden nearby, since we couldn't get into the castle we climbed over the low gate and looked around there. In the back there was this sort of shed, and there was a trap door down under some things and in the dust. It opened over a staircase, and a quick walk down it showed we were right, there was something down there.**

**And that was when things went...wrong.**

**Jones met us at the gate with a half dozen men. He tied us up and found the secret entrance, and showed us down there. We hadn't gone down to the lab until then, and it was...it was something from a movie. Chalkboards, papers taped all over the walls, equations I couldn't even begin to explain. And an underground silo with a rocket fully made and ready to launch at the push of a big red button.**

**I don't know how long we were held down there, my hands were tied and Jones stood over us taunting Mr. Gold. I think he wanted him to fight, he called him a coward. He...he threatened to turn his attentions on me next, but then his boss showed up.**

**It wasn't the Queen of Hearts, but she mentioned her enough that I think she was a high-ranking underling. She was a tall redheaded woman in a noxious green dress. She was English too, but Id idn't catch her name. Just that she was a bit...a bit odd, and that Jones couldn't stand her. Um...and...we were tied up, ad to be put in the room with the rocket. There were these...these great big doors, that lock shut I suppose when the rocket is launched? One of her henchmen was reaching for me when he fell over. I know now he was shot in the head, but at the time I didn't realize it.**

**Robin Locksley possibly has the sharpest aim I've ever seen, not that that means much, but he shot two more men before they started firing back. Things got a bit-They were confusing then, I've never seen so much gunfire, but we squirmed out the way. I'm not sure where the redhead went. We squirmed out the way, there was a bit of sharp metal Mr. Gold cut the ropes on his wrist with, and then he untied me. The lab was a bit larger than I thought, the men had retreated down a hall and out of the front room, and Gold told me to leave and call for back up, the police, whoever I could get first...**

* * *

_"Are you crazy?" Belle gaped. "I'm not leaving you behind!"_

_"Belle! You're the bravest woman I've ever met you aren't ready for this!" Gold gestured to the sound of shots being fired steadily. "Just go, I'll be fine!"_

_"No! I'm not leaving-" Belle snapped her mouth shut, screwing her eyes shut, and stamping her foot for good measures. "Oh fine! Fine! I'll go, but don't you dare! You owe me dinner, and I want to find out what the 'S' in Raymund S. Gold stands for!"_

_Gold blinked. Then nodded. And then he was gone._

_She should have kissed him, but she was running too._

* * *

**I found our car, and broke whatever speed limits Dunbroch had getting to the nearest phonebooth. I phoned the office, wiretaps didn't even cross my mind, and I think I even saw Cassidy and Swan on the street before the rocket shot into the sky overheard. I have never heard anything so loud, or seen anything so bright, as that rocket was. Until then I'd always thought of a rocket as a sort of...as a sort of firecracker, just a bang and a pop of light and fire.**

**This was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen in the daylight, I could only imagine at night it would look like the sun was falling out of the sky.**

**I...I woke up in my room at the inn, lying on my bed. The innkeeper, some nice widow lady, I don't think I ever got her name, she was sitting with me. I'd fainted for the first time in my life...which I'll admit now was a bit embarrassing.**

**And I asked that poor widow about a hundred questioned she didn't know the answers to, before I ran out the room and back to the castle. The ground inside the circle of rocks was wide open, like the segments inside an orange? Sort of like these big jagged teeth, open around a pit that was the missile silo. People were all around, some were taking pictures, the police were trying to keep them back. I argued with one until Locksley let me over.**

**I saw him, I saw Agent Cassidy, Locksley said something about Agent Swan being underground in the bunker. I didn't see Gold, but Locksley explained why soon enough. The redhead had locked herself in the control room. She'd set the rocket to fire without locking the doors. Locksley and Mr. Gold were running for the exit when Jones appeared and shot Gold in the foot. Locksley was rushed, his shot went wide and skimmed Jones' arm before he fled. He'd had to haul Gold over his shoulder to get them out before the rocket launched, and it was a close thing. Gold had been sent to the hospital, and the official investigation was in Cassidy and Swan's hands due to Locksley's current position and Mr. Gold's reputation.**

**Which is unfair, because we have proof that they were both innocent. Jones framed Gold-It is relevant! Jones framed Gold eight years ago, he framed Locksley this time! He is the epitome of a double agent!**

**Fine, he's been caught. What about Kingsleigh? What have you done there?**

**Well of course he's fled by now-No I will not 'calm down'! I've gone from sitting quietly behind a desk to being shot at in the span of a week, I've bloody well earned my right to an opinion on this matter even if it's too passionate for you to take!**

* * *

_"How much trouble are we in?"_

_Neal Cassidy sighed, slouching in his seat. "Less than Jones and Kingsleigh, more than me and Em."_

_Belle winced. She felt like she was seven years old and being sent to the principal's office for the first time. Only her parents weren't coming to get her, and she was not going to get a light scolding before being sent home with a warning to behave better in the future. Probably. Oh god. Mr. Waverly was going to kill her, this was going to be a nightmare for Section VI and their cover-up team._ A rocket flying over Scotland. _No one had calculated the angles or anything, it had flown straight up and slightly left, debris raining in the sea five miles off the coast. The launch had incinerated all the papers and design plans in the laboratory, and Belle couldn't count that as a failure._

_Atomic bombs were bad enough. Atomic rockets were a nightmare she could live without._

_She didn't have time to visit Gold in the hospital before she was being summoned to the closest U.N.C.L.E. outpost, so she was fretting for him in the back of her mind the entire time. It was some kind of debriefing. Belle had never been part of one of those before. She'd be asked questions, she'd give the answers, recap. Agent Swan was debriefing now. Belle was next. She had nothing to occupy her hands, or her mind, except for her nerves of course. Some bland conversation with Neal Cassidy was all she really had._

_Oh she was doomed._

_"So...you and Gold?"_

_"Pardon?"_

_"You and Gold. You..." Cassidy scrunched up his nose, tilting his head back and forth. "You're seeing each other, or what?"_

_"What? No. No. Well, no, not exactly. Um...we're supposed to have dinner though. You know. If no one has to go to jail, after all this is over. That's...something."_

_"That's something. Why Gold though?"_

_Belle shrugged. "He's...he's interesting. And respectful-"_

_"_ Gold _?"_

_"Yes. Gold. He's a lot more respectful than most of the Havard educated wolves that I have to share an office with."_

_Cassidy had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Ah. Well. I mean, he's probably not going to jail, you guys didn't fire the rocket_. _But we are in MI6's territory, this is where they threw him under their double decker bus to save face. Just...expect them to give you a rough time."_

* * *

Gold had been held in the hospital until his injured foot had healed. He wrote to Belle, and she to him in the weeks in between. She kept him updated: Jones had been caught within an hour of fleeing the bunker, by the police. Kingsleigh had tried slinking away but was caught as well recently. The most stunning capture of all was that of the Queen of Hearts at long last.

Cora Mills.

A wealthy socialite from Boston, Mrs. Mills was the last person you would expect to be managing an international crime syndicate and arms deals. But she had, for the past three decades or so. Her father-in-law had ties to the mob she had used to get a foot in the door, and had groomed her daughter Regina to take her place when she retired. But Mrs. Mills wouldn't retire, she was too controlling. Which turned out to be her downfall.

Locksley had met Regina Mills at a party while he was supposed to be undercover. And they met again while she was trying to escape her mother's clutches. At that point, they'd decided that if Regina was trapped, they could make some good out of it and she reported things back to Locksley. She was his source. And his sweetheart, which was why he wouldn't reveal her. (Noble, if potentially dangerous.) She had been sending Cassidy and Swan messages hinting at the identities of the mole, Kingsleigh, and a traitor, Jones, while Locksley had taken his son and gone into hiding.

Arthur Kingsleigh was cleverer than Jones if little else positive could be said about him, and he'd deduced Locksley had a source inside the Queen of Hearts organization. Before he could reveal it, thus endangering Regina, Locksley fled. Mrs. Mills' illegitimate daughter, Regina's half sister, Zelena, was brought into the fold mainly as a convenient sacrifice so desperate to please her mother she'd do anything. Including things she wasn't even asked, such as sending out men to capture Belle French in case her mother had given her any evidence. That explained why it was in line with the Queen of Hearts' interests while also being wholly ineffective and sloppy.

Mrs. Mills had been captured by Waverly's best agents, Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, and a young woman named Gabby Teller that Belle had a short talk with before she'd figured out who she was. They would have to chat again sometime. Their first experiences with fieldwork were both...interesting.

However, Belle was in no rush to get back out there. She did better work here, helping research information and clues for the Section II and III agents that were trained to go out in the world. What she was in a rush for was for Gold to get back to the states. She'd been assured that he would. MI6 no longer considered him a dark mark in their records, and Mr. Waverly muttered something about hypocritical bureaucrats wanting to shake hands with every hero in addition to explaining the need for Gold to recuperate before being moved.

He'd need a cane to walk for the rest of his life, he'd mentioned in one letter. Belle could almost hear how sour he was about that. He thought of himself as old and gray already, a cane would probably make him feel worse. She'd just have to convince him she found him quite attractive. If they ever got to have their dinner.

Belle was walking out the offices for the day. Gold hadn't responded to her last letter yet, she intended to check her post box when she got to her new apartment. She hadn't been able to stay in the old one, the longer walk was worth it. There was too much...too much bad that had happened in there. It was time to move on.

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she had almost missed the familiar black car sitting there on the sidewalk with a man standing beside it.

"Good evening Miss French." Gold smiled, positioning his cane slightly behind himself. (She really had her work out cut out for her convincing him she wasn't put off by this injury.) "I'm a bit late in the day, but would you still care to have that dinner?"

Belle stopped short. Then she sprinted forwards, flinging her arms around his shoulders. He smelled liked his cologne, and his cigarettes, and this time she was not letting him turn away, or back away, or get away in any capacity before she'd given him a sound kiss. And so she did.

The world wasn't perfect or safe, but it felt clearer in that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't ask me for a sequel dearest readers. I may have some fill-in-the-blanks ficlets coming out, but that's it. The Cold War spy genre is not my cup of tea, this was a labor of Rumbelle love and respect for my 2x giftee. I've gotten you twice now Ssirius-Blackk! What were the odds! :D


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